


A Path to Finding a Becomming

by Ladyhydrangeas



Category: Hannibal (TV), The Path (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cults, Emotional Manipulation, Following the light, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possessive Hannibal, Slow Burn, Someone Help Will Graham, Will Graham needs all the help he can get
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyhydrangeas/pseuds/Ladyhydrangeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hannibal Lecter surrenders in front of the only person he will ever care about, Will Graham decides that it's time to leave. His trip cut short and turned upside down as a tornado destroys his only means of escape. The Meyerist movement is first on the scene and they plan to take Will Graham back with them. All good intentions except for their mysterious temporary Leader who sees this as more of an opportunity than a good deed. Hannibal's not to happy to hear of his beloved's demise; though he simply can not believe it until he sees the body himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I admit this is my first fan story that I have ever published. I have the first few chapters planned out; lets see where this takes us! Hannigram eventually.

His head hurt. 

That was the first thing to register in Will Graham's mind as he blinked rapidly to avoid the sunlight streaming down from above. What had happened?

He couldn't remember. One of his hands stretched forward, grabbing something; something cool, something metal. Was that a seat belt buckle? It glinted back at him, the suns rays now hitting it from the movement Will's hands had caused. His beacon of survival. The only thing that saved him when his car was picked up and tossed into the air as if it weighed nothing. 

The winds were vicious, they howled gruesomely from what Will could recall. He vaguely heard a siren in the distance of his mind. A warning from mere hours before. Tornadoes in the East Coast were not supposed to be as common as they were getting. They used to never happen. 

People still were not entirely prepared.

With a light groan and a twist of his upper body, Will assessed his own injuries. The headache something to get checked out if he could. Will Graham didn't need anymore head trauma. He didn't need any more Hannibal Lecter. He didn't need anymore FBI cases. His crazy was contained...for now. 

In fact, this was EXACTLY the reason why he was driving out here in the first place. His resignation letter sat opened and signed on Jack's desk. Its plainness starkly different from what Will was feeling over the matter. He still felt gutted. Strings of betrayal never heal quickly. Will had wondered briefly if his other half felt the same way. The man sitting behind glass and concrete, assumed captured and contained. Assumed safe for everyone else to move on with their lives and close that particularly horrible chapter of their lives. 

Will Graham knew better. 

That man was dangerous no matter what cage you put him in. 

The sound of crying filtering through his mental walls was what eventually startled the ex-profiler into action. The wails loud and echoing through the area, vibrating over materials that Will could now imagine laid twisted about in horrible puzzles. The last he stay in his own thoughts, the better. The seat belt pulled tight, sturdy enough to grab onto and hopefully pull himself free from the carnage that used to be his only mode of transportation. Will was intensely aware of his gratefulness that his dogs were not with him in this moment. He wasn't sure they would have survived. 

Haunted cries of help and sorrow sent trendrals of emotion grabbing at his empathy, like vipers sprung to attack. Will flinched visibly from them, too shaken by the accident to build up the forts he needed in order to remain calm and collected. Not that they were strong forts anymore, he thought bitterly. Hannibal saw to that. 

"Help is on the way!" A young woman's voice shouted out to him. Brown hair, wind swept skin; His eyes widened at the sight of her, very mall-of-America. A name found itself climbing up his throat. "Abigail!?" His voice stuttered out. She would be the one to welcome him to deaths door. After everything that happened...could he truly be forgiven for the choices that he made? Could he be forgiven by the fate he unintentionally left her with?  
Abigail smirked, bringing down her own hand t his so she can help remove him from the rubble that others slowly moved away for them. 

"Guess he decided it wasn't your time," Her smile was blinding. Will was bitter, an awkward smile formed on his features. 

"It was yours," Will could hear himself retort back; a brittle laugh released before he knew it. Hannibal was the one for theatrics, how fitting that in Will's end his mind would mock up the same gut-wrenching scenarios. The ex-profiler's gaze shifted from her face to her neck; to see the cut that was born from his design. Abigail's neck was bare. No scarf or scar present on the pale skin there. His eyes trailed down lower to her shirt; a t-shirt. 

Abigail did not wear t-shirts. The shirt in question was blue, an eye staring back at him. Symbolic of something that he did not know of. This woman was not Abigail. She was someone else; an imposter. He could tell the differences now that he looked closely. The woman's eyes brown instead of piercing blue. Her smile crooked in a way that Abigail's could never be. 

Will felt his gaze shifting to the scene around him. Rubble sat cluttering different piles; water pouring dangerously from something; people warning others to not touch the stuff. The crying from a child; its mother clinging to it while another man tried to gently coax and soothe her. He was wearing the same shirt as the not-Abigail and what seemed to be many others were wearing. 

"My names Ann" 'Abigail' said. Her smile was set in confusion making Will realize that she had probably said this before while he was zoning out. She seemed concerned....no maybe Frightened? No, no she was concerned about something. Was it for him? Another face flashed before his eyes, jaunting with sharp cheek bones and eyes that told a much different story than what his expression showed. Will frowned, shaking his head from side to side. His curls bounced around to frame his face. 

"Sorry-" He stuttered out shakily, "Must have hit my head or something." His breath was hot against his arm; his hand lifted up to prod gently at his forehead. Ann let out a petite snort at his reply. She was used to people reacting this way after such an event. They have driven around to many of these disaster spots in order to help out as much as they could. She felt the need to help out the man before her now; it was a powerful emotion, pulling her into his aura, not letting her go. 

"Hey it's alright. You should come with us," Ann tried to persuade with a light hand on his shoulders. A hand that was jostled off the shoulder with a shuddering and sudden flinch. So he wasn't terribly fond of contact. She kept that noted to herself for later. "At least until you are able to pick yourself back up again? Not sure where you were going, let us help you out yeah?" 

Will stared at her, just below her collar bone, letting her words process slowly. She wasn't necessarily wrong, but he didn't want to deal with people. Not for now, probably not for a very long time. Yet,without a car where would he go? He scrubbed his face with hand; there really wasn't much of an option left for him. 

"For a few days," Will Grahams voice echoed back to him.


	2. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was her job to tell Hannibal, she reasoned with herself. A spark of resentment and sadistic pleasure burned under her veins; she was the one with the power now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Thank you very much for all the kudos and interest in this story! :D

Alana bloom tread carefully down the corridor; her heels clicking. The sound echoed on the tiles and off the walls of the "Hospital" she was in charge of. A newspaper clenched in the palm of her hand, a marker of the tension that the woman refused to show on her face and in her other actions. Jack Crawford's voice still rang in her ears; somber and apologetic. 

It was her job to tell Hannibal, she reasoned with herself. A spark of resentment and sadistic pleasure burned under her veins; she was the one with the power now. If she thought that singular thought over and over, then she might actually start believing it. The emotion flowing through her now hot and fiery, like downing a shot of whiskey with no chaser. 

So far Hannibal's stay had been...calm? manageable? She didn't count the shit storm that happened after he was captured, she wasn't the director of the B.S.H.C.I. during those moments. Still clinging onto her life, the pieces sewing themselves back together after being in shreds for so long. 

She would NOT thank Hannibal for that. 

This was all his fault in the first place. 

Alana closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself for what she was about to do. A tear slid down her face leaving a water stain trail messing up the make up that she wore, her mascara smearing slightly. Her breath stuttered out of her. A strained gasp that shattered any perception she was carrying.

It just wasn't fair.

Even if he was only missing at this moment. What were the chances of survival anyways? Not high, she thought. All she had wanted was to protect Will Graham from everything. After all she had done. All they had gotten themselves through. They managed to survive Hannibal for goodness sakes! They SURVIVED him. They became intimate and survived the beast.

So why was it that something so normal...Something so uncreative was what finally...

She couldn't continue the thought. The paper she had clasped in her hand crinkled as she gripped it tighter. This was not the mask she wanted to present to the monster.  
A nod of her head gave the guard, stationed in front of the door leading into the beasts personal cage, the sign to key in his code and allow her passage. The number pad beeped back at him. She turned her head to give the illusion of privacy even though they all knew she was keeper of the codes and as such knew them by heart. It was a kind thing to do though, polite. Hannibal would approve of it.

She tried not to think about that at all.

The alarm the door gave off would alert Hannibal to her before she even faced him. There were plenty of times Alana had spotted on the camera feed in her office that Hannibal would blatantly pretend to ignore some of his repeated visitors. She wondered minutely if he would do the same for her. Wondered if the smell of the perfume she wore gave her away like the beast would tell her tauntingly.

She tried not to think about that at all.

She closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself. The door sung open. One step in. One click of a heel. Two clicks of a heel. A stern look, comfortable and common worn on her face. Her own mask against the outside world.

"Good evening, Alana."

Alana would never admit to faltering in her steps from his voice; gravelly from misuse. She really should have been used to his utter need to speak first. Found it slightly upsetting that it still threw her off balance. What a cocky bastard he was.  


"Good evening, Hannibal"

She was immensely grateful that her voice did not shake at the words. A blessing from somewhere, she was sure. Hannibal sat at the desk they have provided for him with the hope that he would have some good behavior. Pencil in hand. Hell she could almost see the face of the man he was shading details into. Black graphite curls and tired looking eyes staring directly back at the hand that was creating them.  
The news she had to provide seemed even more bittersweet in that single moment.  
"I am afraid that I am quite busy," Hannibal's voice, still gravelly, carried a sing-songish tone to it that clearly stated just how contradictory that was. Alana tilted her head to the side, a tsk clicking in the side of her cheek. She held it back. " How is the wife and soon to be child?" This time he looked up, staring directly at her belly.

Cold fear instantly submerged itself into her, freezing her veins. Her anger simmering beneath that. He had no right to speak of their names or of them at all. The paper she clenched in her fists stung as the edges cut into skin. It grounded her. Reminded her why she had even stepped foot into his space to begin with. 

"I am not here to have a chat" Her tone short and to the point, breathing in deeply, partially for dramatic pause. "We need to talk about Will Graham." The man visibly got straighter; Alana smirked inwardly. Gotcha. She let herself cross over to the glass wall that separated the two; Hannibal still sitting at his desk but staring intently at her. Expecting, anticipating. Any lesser being would be bouncing up and down, she'd suspect.  
Hannibal showed no outwards emotions at all. 

It was only through their past intimacy that Alana could take a peek behind the curtain. She gently unclenched the newspaper, the crinkling being louder than she would have thought it ever could be. Her palm laid flat against the paper as she held it up to the glass cage; the middle crease causing a her a bit of trouble in keeping it that way. The page shown, a scene of disaster. The title "Tragedy takes New Hampshire; Unprepared".  
Hannibal did not look shocked, or horrified. He didn't even look amused at the whole thing. "I fail to see how this involved our dear profiler." He stated instead, as if asking about the weather or sending his regards to a missed lottery chance. "God has a way of making mortals very conscientious of their mortality. Do not tell me that Will Graham has taken up news photography, that would be something I would expect our Miss Lounds to come across after the money dries up from her book deal." A slight tick on the lips then, a slip of a smile Hannibal gets when he knows he is being cunning. 

Alana narrowed her eyes. A single digit pointed to the corner of the image present.A pile of rubble twisted grotesquely in the frame of the shot. "That is Wills car. They were able to track the model and license plates numbers that they managed to read out back to him." She waited to judge his reaction, a single tear escaping down the side of her cheek. She could feel that her voice would crack if she dared speak again. She did not. 

Hannibal stared blankly back at her, taking in what she had said. He opened his mouth slightly, a small sigh escaping between his lips. He wanted to say something. He did not. 

They both kept their stance; Alana watching Hannibal like a Hawk. Tears slowly accumulating in their intensity. Hannibal staring back at her, dead-eyed. A Maroon void; vast and empty. 

"I think you are done here," Hannibal finally spoke, his tone light and unaffected. Alana gritted her teeth. The satisfaction she was hoping to feel shattered by the bitter sadness crashing through her. 

"DAMNIT HANNIBAL. WILL COULD BE DEAD." Her fist pounded against the glass as each word screamed out of her. "HE PROBABLY IS DEAD" Her voice scratched now from the over-use. It hurt to breathe. She lowered her hand. "He is probably dead." A whisper now, to herself. Her hand stung from the impact.

Hannibal watched the whole ordeal expressionlessly. "Goodbye Alana," was all that could be heard in the room now. The serial Killer/cannibal picked up his graphite once more, lightly shading in the details of Curly hair and sleepless eyes staring back at him. Alana's storming footsteps and the slamming of the door shook everything around him. He was sure he could still hear the sobs wrecking through Alana even now. 

The graphite in his hand sketched a deep gashing line through the sleepless eyes, obscuring the beauty staring back at him. Hannibal kept his eyes on the paper. Long moments passed, the absence of movement speaking louder and louder as the seconds ticked by. Then as if time itself was thrown back into reality, the graphite crashed against one of the cell walls breaking into pieces from the blunt force. The paper ripped, tossed, crumpled, flattened out and crumpled back up again. 

Hannibal kept his eyes on the paper. 

This just could not be true.


	3. Opportunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You really do look like Cal," She sighed out, hoping that her tone was soothing for the man. "If you got a haircut, you'd look like you were twins. Its fairly amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! :D Chapter 3 is a bit longer than the others. Note: spoilers are still only up to ep 1 of The Path,

Will Graham could feel his headache worsen once they reached the Meyerist compound. Too much information all at once, short circuiting his brain from all the different emotions and interactions. Ann smiled softly, reaching her hand over with hesitation, asking to give the comfort she felt he needed but knowing well enough not to force it. It was strange to Will. To find some one that understood even just a bit. Someone who understood that and wasn't looking out to gain anything from it. 

Will scoffed internally, hoping that he was able to school his features and not scare the woman off. Wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last. 

Ann found herself glancing back at the mans face. "You really do look like Cal" she sighed out, hoping that her tone was soothing for the man. "If you got a haircut, you would look like his twin. Its fairly amazing." it truly was for her, the man looked so similar to their stand in leader; like he was a long lost brother or something. Give him a haircut and a few days of much needed rest? You wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

Will's eyes squinted around the edges at the words, letting the woman's hand on his shoulder with the barest of flinches. He had no idea who Cal was, wasn't really interested in finding out either. "This place," the profiler found himself saying, "Its pretty different from what I usually see." A grim smile on his face, appeasing.

"Oh I suppose so," Ann replied with mirth, "We are a movement, a way to be together for when the future comes. We will find our way up the ladder and into the garden." She had a feeling that togetherness might not be something that the man before her was used too. They could show him the Path though. It would be such a marvelous journey.

"That's not what I meant" Will sighed, taking off his glasses to rub them on his shirt. "I meant that this place is happier than what I usually see." And how pathetic was that, he sneered to himself. There wasn't much left to his life now that he could classify as happy. There was a promise to keep to himself, not to think back to Hannibal. He promised to move on; he needed to do that.

No-one mentioned it was going to be easy. He KNEW that. Even now there were parts of him still aching for that reach. Still needing his messed up paddle for some grasp of stability or ideal of stability that he had held through out his time in Florence and Lithuania. His heart lurched towards that, feeling gutted and empty. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Ann's smirk fell with the spoken words. There seemed to be something there, a hidden meaning that she felt she didn't have the rights or privileged too. Not yet at least; no matter how inviting he seemed to be when they first spoke to one another. Though, she mused, that was probably for different reasons that she also didn't have the rights of privileged to. She moved her hair behind her ear, looking up from the man busy with his own thoughts when she saw his identical. Their stand in leader, Cal, making his way across their compound after talking to a group of Tornado survivors.

"Cal!" the woman called out, her voice loud being so close to Will's side; the suddenness of it causing him to jump and step to the side.. He itched to put on his glasses. He wanted and needed the space and safety they provided to him. It felt like he was suffocating without them. Will could see the man that was being called jogging to their current location. This Cal person was a bit more bulky than Will was. A man of great strength that he tried to hide under the quiet veil of responsibility and leadership. A man who tried too hard to be what he wanted to be perceived as and not hard enough in being what he really was. The profiler could relate to that from time to time.

Hannibal's voice echoed in the back of his mind, haunting and ringing of truth.

Will resisted the urge to shake his head violently.  
Ann rotated her wrist; the bone cracked, giving the tale-tell sign of carpel tunnel that set in from repetitive movement. "You have got to see the relation up close" Her voice pleasantly broke the momentary silence. "This is..." Her lips pursed in question, remembering now that she had never asked the other man his name at all. She felt a bit silly at that. Cheeks reddening from the embarrassment of it.

Will could also relate to that from time to time. "It's Will" The profiler shrugged his shoulders in an uncaring fashion. The tension beneath his movements screamed to him not to reveal his last name. Too many opportunities as it was for those around to recognize him. He didn't need to give them an open invitation, especially since his trip was planned to be short. A hand was offered from his look alike. That hand was denied a hand in return.

Cal took a long moment sizing the other man up. He could agree with Ann, they had a similar structure and look. There was something familiar about him though.. Not from his personal life or his personal experiences, but from somewhere more...public? He held out his hand, expecting. Frowned when it was denied; that was quite rude. "Just Will?" Cal smiled, trying to be open and inviting. Just like his audio tapes told him to be. He can be a great leader. He WILL be a great leader.

Will shot the other man a look, fidgeting against the hot scrutiny. Anxiety rolled off him in waves, making his clothes feel tight and prickly even though they hung off or his shoulders and dwarfed him. He didn't want to be there. "Yeah" Will was able to utter, a mumble under his breath that could barely be heard over the chattering of the groups around them. There was a distinct fear that if he got a real look at Cal, he would see a mirror of himself. The profiler was not yet ready to face what would be staring back at him. He kept his gaze locked towards the ground, glasses firmly in place now.

Ann gazed shifted between the two of them, noting the similarities and differences as they were presented to her. "He is only here for a few days. To pick himself back up from what had happened." She decided to reassure their newcomer of his idea of a temporary visit. She wanted to be wrong though; she wanted to help him. That was what they did.  
A sigh could be heard coming from Cal as he took a step back. "I hope you enjoy it here. Sarah should be able to house him." There was a smile on his face, a look of defeat behind that. The man knew when to quit while he was ahead. The feeling of familiarity still striking a cord in him. He nodded to Ann before starting back up his jog to his office. 

A flash of red curls bounced in the corner of his eye.

"Guess we need to find Sarah then," Ann gestured forward. " She is really nice. Has a big family." She felt as if she was rambling to the other now. With not much coming from him, she wasn't able to grasp if it was too much. Her stomach twisted awkwardly at the thought. It contradicted the nice day that the light showered them with. The breeze pleasant and not overwhelming. " She should be at her office, helping the traumatic." Will could use someone to talk to about his trauma, Ann thought. She could tell just by looking at him.

Her words caused the man to scrunch up, growing stiffer in movement. "What does she do?" He spat out, feeling quite like an exposed wire. The emotion thrashed about wildly. 

'You will not like me when I'm psychoanalyzed' 

His words echoed harshly in his mind, grating against the walls of his skull. He was TIRED of psychiatrists.  
Ann's head jerked in his direction. "I'm so sorry!" The words spilled out instantly. She didn't even know why she said them; felt slightly guilty at the poor reaction he gave her. What was she even doing? What had she done wrong? She shook her head. "She just listens when you need someone to talk to. Kind of like a counselor. Not trained or anything....I guess the only one who is really trained professionally would be our Doctor..." The words now hesitant, trying to ride the waves smoothly instead of rocking the boat more. "She wont pry if you do not want her to" Barely a whisper now. 

Another sting hit deep in Will's core. He had to remind himself that this woman was only trying to help. She didn't want anything in return...yet. She wasn't looking to get information from him, or to write an article on him, or to even frame him for anything. She just wanted to help and he wasn't exactly giving her the right attitude for the job. The sting simmered within him, adding to the hatred towards himself that he was feeling quite passionately. "No," He grimaced. "I'm sorry. We should go look for her."  
  
_____________  
Evenings were a time for family and togetherness. Or at least that was what Will was told as he sat down with the Lanes; Sarah and Eddie Lane, their son, the grandparents, and the others which Will was fairly sure they weren't related by blood. They all smiled and chatted. Dishes chipped and varied in size, color, design were handed out one by one. It reminded him of his own dish set, eclectic and personal. No meat in sight; He was told they do not enjoy the consumption of animals and how it was against their views. 

Will could be grateful for that. He would be able to swallow down vegetables a lot easier than cow or pig. Especially pig. Just the thought of it now was sending small jolts of nausea through him. He may never be able to manage pig again.  
No whiskey in sight either. He was told they do not enjoy the consumption of spirits or things that alter the mind from its awakening. 

Will could be just as ungrateful for that.

_____

A light from a computer reflected off the glass on the window behind him, leaving the rest of the room in its darkness. On the screen laid open a website with the name Tattle Crime; a picture of a sophisticated man on the cover. His cheekbones pointed and eyes dangerous. "Hannibal the Cannibal Caught" the title read. Next to that; a single photo. A single photo of a man who was his identical.  
Cal knew of opportunity when it came knocking. 

_____

A woman clacked away at her keyboard. She took the SD card out of her camera, pushing it into its indicated spot located on her laptop. Pictures opened to her; showcasing people all together. A majority of them each holding photos of people working towards a common goal. She was only interested in one of them. A photo of a man with curly brunette hair and sleepless eyes. The woman moved her red curls from her face, tucking it behind her ear.  


"I found you" She smirked.


	4. Anguish and Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal visits his mental palace in search of someone special to him. Alana finds herself worried for her inmate after giving him news of Will Grahams fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading/giving kudos/bookmarking my work. :D I am so grateful that I get to share this story with all of you. Spoilers up until episode 2 of The Path so far. 
> 
> Note: There will not be an update next week. Mothers Day is the busiest time for my work. I hope to get another chapter up as soon as possible afterwards.

The trills and sways of violins encompassed the area around him. Its melancholy allure echoed in the passages to his subconscious. He closed his eyes to it; let the vibrations of the music soothe his inner beast that was stalking about, poised and ready to attack. It curled and coiled around; figurative claws out and pointed. 

He was angry. Angry at the situation, at himself. 

Angry at Will Graham. 

The Chapel walls fizzled out as the man clicked his way down the hall in his expensive dress shoes. His suit jacket buttoned up nicely, making a small swooshing noise as the air caressed past him. He missed the feeling of the expensive fabric against his skin. A prison jumper just was not the same.  
There was a purpose in his step, a direction and need to reach his destination as quickly as he could with out running. He was not a desperate man.  
Well not yet at least.

In fact the cannibal hesitated in his steps when he reached a door; a plain, wood grained door. It was rather different from the other doors in his mind palace. Their ornate decor matching the man to a T. This door, Hannibal could say, was the most important of them all. The door opened with a loud creaking sound, echoing in the chamber. Alone sat a single table. Dressed up for dinner with plates, utensils and two singular wine glasses located at each end. Hannibal breathed in heavily, taking his first steps into the room when a figure accumulated at the end furthest from him. Stormy blue eyes gazed at him from under chocolate curls.

"Hello Hannibal"

Hannibal recollected himself, not showing his falter to the other even if this was all in his mental palace. He would not show his weakness. He smiled, calmly. His mask in place for the man in front of him. 

"Hello Will."

The table was set out before then, Hannibal taking the opposite side from his beloved. The other sat still in his chair, staring down at the plate before him and pushing his fork around at the food placed there. Lamb, truly their final dish together. The lamb not quite lost but still sacrificed for his ideal of the greater good none the less. He always knew deep down that Will wasn't as okay with the meal as what Hannibal had wanted. The imago that he so wanted to believe was real.  
Even his mind now relates more to the reality than his fantasy. A frown etched into his features at the thought.  


"I made lamb." Hannibal said out loud now. 

"Sacrificial" His Will replied, looking up through the rim of his glasses, fork clinking against the china plate. the noise echoed in the otherwise empty room. The sound making Hannibal cringe on the inside. He could see the other physically scoffing at the meal as a whole; the concept more than likely leaving a bitter taste on his tongue considering what was to happen next on their agenda. It stung deep and terrible. The feeling of betrayal cold and pointed like a knife. "Was I your sacrifice?"

"I did not need a sacrifice." Hannibal's words barely scratched at the sadness within. He wanted to take their dinner and toss it about the room. Wanted the sound of shattering china to skew any perception that his consciousness wanted to convey. The destructiveness of it all would finally soothe the savage beast within. 

Will Graham stared blankly back at him. The fork clinked against the chine plate, pushing at the food placed on it. He looked as if he wanted to say something. There was bitterness on his face; bitterness in his movements. Was Will Graham always so bitter? Hannibal felt the chill of not being quite sure about that at all.

It was maddening. 

"You wound me up. You watched me go. You destroyed me. You broke me and then put me back together. You wanted me to chase and I chased." Each word uttering out of the profiler now sounded like an attack to Hannibal. He picked up his own utensil in defense. Would be ready to bring the argument to physical blows if that's where it was going to go. Will's fork clattered on the plate as he dropped it; his form visibly shaking. Little sniffles and shudders racked the man sitting across the table from Hannibal; leaving him speechless. Will jerked his head up, finally meeting Hannibal with his eyes streaming with tears.

"You loved me."

Blood dripped down the Will's lips. His eyes shallow and darker now. Bruised and Battered. The man looked like he went through hell and back. Limbs twisted about now. Shoulders dislocated, bones sticking out in random places where they must have broken on impact from the disaster that took his beloved away from Hannibal. It was grotesque. It made Hannibal feel tossed about, emotionally strung at the sight. Will's voice echoed around the room hauntingly.

"You loved me and I had to die on you."

Hannibal jumped up from where he sat, the chair falling backwards with a loud bang, and raced over to the other. Grasped at the form of Will that was disintegrating right in front of his eyes, catching nothing. He stood there, silent, staring at the place where his beloved was just...

The fork laid carelessly across the china plate. Lamb cut into slices were displayed artfully, only the smear of the sauce beneath it proved the pieces ever moved at all. It smelled of ash and betrayal. Hannibal grasped the rim of the dish, thrusting it off the table in a fit of rage. The food flew about, the china shattering against the ground. The eerie quiet left behind with a presence of nothingness so dark it could almost be heard in its wake. Bitterness rivaled with loneliness. 

The beast was not soothed. 

\-------------------  
Alana stared at the monitor before her, not in alarm but in worry. Her special inmate had been quiet since their last talk. She didn't fool herself into thinking anything at all; she had seen his reaction when the monster thought it was safe enough to showcase one at all. There was still a rather nice black streak of graphite on the wall where it broke from impact. It was an action Alana choose to forgive because it was at least some form of reaction at all. 

She preferred that over what she was staring at now. Hannibal lying back on his bed, eyes closed. She supposed one could put if off as Hannibal sleeping, but he hadn't moved.  
The man she was keeping careful watch over hadn't moved for three days now.

Alana, as woefully as she would want to admit it, was worried for him. Her hand tapped against the side of her desk in a rhythm; something to keep her and her worry company as she attempted to complete her assigned tasks. The sound of her office door opening with a swing and a click managed to get her out of her own thoughts. Her beautiful wife smiled, placing her hands around Alana's neck. Margot leaned against the chair, head placed on Alana's shoulder; a comfortable and welcomed weight for the her. 

"Still acting the same way huh?" Margot's voice light in her questionable tone. 

"Ive seen him cry. Ive seen him mourn the loss of Will Graham once before..." Alana sighed, placing her hand on top of her wife's as she continued to look at her monitor. "He was always manipulative in his sorrow, but I have NEVER seen him like this before. I just can't make tails end of what is going on in his mind now." Alana felt the sting of frustration at even being concerned at all. 

"Oh love," Margot whispered against her ear. " This is his true sorrow."


	5. Agreements and Condolences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah and Cal have a conversation. Ann finds out more about Will Graham while Freddie contemplates exploitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! Thank you for taking an interest in this story! Hopefully I can continue with my weekly update now that work is less busy. Spoilers of The Path up to episode 2.

Sarah stared unbelievably at her friend. "What you are suggesting we do is against our principles. Cal if he doesn't want to stay then we let him go!" She had the sudden urge to slam her hand on the desk in front of her. The day started out rather normally she supposed. Her relationship with Eddie not getting better as the days went on. If only he didn't cheat on her. Especially not with that Miranda Frank. Sarah felt her hands clenching at the thought of it all. 

Then Cal has asked for her opinion on a certain testy subject. Wanted to convert Will to Meyerism. Say goodbye to the 'normal' day. Sarah shook her head vigorously, not agreeing with this idea. Eddie and She had the honor of housing Will while he stayed in their compound, since he was only supposed to be a temporary guest. He was nice. A little distant at most times but he never started anything. The movement would do wonders for him, truly, but you couldn't force that upon anyone.  


That was not what they did. 

"He needs to unburden. I know you can see the troubles he faces even now, especially if I can see it Sarah." Cal glowered at her. He laid out a newspaper flat on the table between them; Wills face staring back up at them with two others. Sarah could recognize Hannibal's face from the news. The headlines in big white letters spelled out 'Bloody Reign At The End'. "He is Will Graham," Cal waited for the information to catch up with her. This was an opportunity they couldn't pass up. If they were able to convert someone like Will Graham; it would mean wonders for them publicly. The gears were already turning in his mind about how to promote this. 

_Profiler known for catching Hannibal The Cannibal gives up role in the FBI to join Meyerist movement for a more peaceful life._

Oh Cal could DEFINITELY work with that. They would be able to reach out to more people than ever before with that kind of story. He wore his thoughts smugly on his face. Sarah could almost smack him across the head for it. Clearly he wasnt thinking quite straight on the subject. 

"It doesn't matter who he is, Cal." She leveled him down with a stare. "You can't just force the ladder on him. He wont accept it as he should. He is an IS. They can bring down the future upon us!" She felt strongly over the matter; could see the future happening all around them. This was not a time for their movement to be questioned. Not when their leader was down in Peru, finishing up his life mission in completing the transcripts on the final rungs of the ladder. 

"Or he could join." Cal dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. "IS's can either join the light or bring the future. Its practically 50/50 here. We need to give him all the opportunities we can for him to see the light. Think about it, Sarah. Think about what we can do to help him." He lifted his hands, palms up, in a 'why not' gesture, they really had nothing to lose for trying and everything to gain. He could persuade his friend, he knew that. He just needed to hit the right keys. 

Sarah looked at Cal for a long moment, as if she could stare the intent right out of his body. He made a good point, she could admit to that, but what she couldn't figure out was why it exactly mattered so much to him. Why Will Graham? She couldn't imagine anything good coming out of it if Will didn't want any part of their movement. She shook her head again, sighing and resting her forehead on her hand in considerate defeat. "How do you plan to go about this, at least?"  


She couldn't imagine saying 'Hey Join us!' would work in this scenario.

"Let me talk to him" Cal's reply chipper and full of confidence that the man was radiating off himself now. Whether he truly felt it or not, Sarah could tell he meant business. "I just need a few moments of his time and I bet you I can get at least some idea of how to handle this." Truthfully, Cal had done his research over the fellow in question. He'd seen the horrors and torment that Will had gone through. Saw the articles a Freddie Lounds typed up; empathy disorders abound. He'd read about the man that found himself in the middle of hells battlefield with the only person he could trust repeatedly stabbing him in the back...or the front as fate would have it. 

Cal could relate to that. He felt the sting of similarity between them that spoke deeper than appearance.  
He felt the anger hiding inside himself shouting for empathy. Seeking out the source of someone who wouldnt judge his darker thoughts just because they were dimming his light. Oh how Cal wanted to embrace this feeling of being understood. He always needed to be the strong one infront of the others, needed to be the leader they would look up to and let guide them.  


It was his destiny. 

"Well I cant stop you from having a conversation" Sarah leaned back in her chair, tapping the desk with her index finger. 

___________  


"Will!" Will Graham looked up from the side of the grass that he was walking on, hearing his name being called out. Ann waved wildly from the garden she was working in. The people around her lifting up their heads from the suddeness of the call. She seemed excited, bending down to say her goodbyes before standing, stretching and running over to catch up with him. He considered stopping and waiting for her; it would be the polite thing to do. 

The murmurs of voices not his, whispered their malicious manipulations in his ear; Will Graham did not stop.  
Ann was able to catch up to the other, her running quicker than his walking pace. Slowing down to match his speed, she let their silence stay for a few moments before speaking.  


"So...Do you like it here so far? The Lane family is pretty nice right? Sarah and Eddie have always been so welcoming to anyone who comes to the compound." She felt this topic wouldn't be too invasive and she was genuinely curious about his thoughts of their sanctuary. Ann had pride in it after all. She put effort into making this place as homey as they all could. 

Will gave the a side glance, grimacing at his lack of a reply. "Its been nice" Not what he was used to. He decided it was not the best idea to mention the underlining tension he could feel suffocating the Lane family. Lies and deceit can do that to a family. His mouth twitched into a small frown; creases on his forehead showing from the stress he was carrying there. 

Ann nodded at his words, letting the silence wash over them again. Uncomfortable and prickly. Her hand unconsciously rubbed at her elbow; smile still in place but losing its meaning quickly. "Do you mind," She started out timidly, "if I asked you something that could be a bit personal?" It was something that had been on her mind, simmering under the ordinary and daily thoughts she held. A question that stayed with her well through out the day and into the night, until she slept. A question she would see in her dreams being answered with all sorts of responses but none of the answers she would hope to get. 

She could see the man stuttering to a stop, straightening where he stood. Ended up walking past him in the suddenness of his actions. Will bit at the bottom of his lip, worried and wary over what she had wished to know. Could have been easy to figure out who he was, the ex -profiler sighed and jerked his head up once for an affirmative answer. Best to get it over with now than to deal with it later. 

"Who do I remind you of?" Ann stated abruptly, turning back to look the man in the eye. Or at least she tried to; she found out rather quickly that he didn't meet the eyes of many people. "I figured I must look like someone, you seemed sad before....when we met? Said some things that I supposed were not for me but for someone else." 

Will's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Ann was very intuitive. The only problem was that he wasn't necessarily sure he wanted to share these thoughts with her. She was right, it was personal; maybe unrightfully so. Still Will felt the need to protect this secret. Whether it be to protect Abigail or protect Ann from knowing the truth, he couldn't really say. What would knowing do regardless? 

"Just someone who isn't with us any longer" Will Graham struggled speaking clearly, his voice breaking with the force of it. In front of him Abigail smiled her gentle smile; eyes shining with tears that she never let fall in the end. She walked closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"He wanted you to live. He wanted us to all live together." Will flinched at her kindness. He didn't want to hear those words now. Not when she wasnt really even there. He scolded his mind for even trying this harsh joke on him. It was cruel and unwelcomed. The vision of Abigail slowly melted away to a sorrowful looking Ann; her hand still place squarely on his shoulder. 

 

"I am so sorry..."

_______  
Freddie clicked through her photos of the compound she had managed to capture on her little excursions. This information was going to send her relevancy right through the roof once again. She would have the final end to her Will Graham tale. Who would have thought that the profiler would find home in a cult. After everything that had happened to him...

A chill went through her spine at that thought. What were the chances that their mutual friendly neighborhood cannibal would get a glimpse at the article? Surely Alana Bloom wouldn't let that get past. Though what if it did? What if she was able to get the first word out of Hannibal Lecter's reaction to finding Will Graham alive? 

The woman clicked on one of the photos she had recently taken. Will Graham was looking rather pitiful in it. He was standing next to a woman that had some resemblance to Abigail; it caused her to hesitate before snapping her camera for the shot. The man seemed to be close to moving on.

She knew Hannibal would not like that very much at all.


	6. Taunting Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pork with Paprika, salt and pepper has always been a favorite" The slamming of something down on a surface broke the pause at the end of his sentence. It spoke louder than anything that guard could say. Hannibal could practically smell the rage simmering beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! Things should start picking up a bit from here. Enjoy! :D
> 
> The Path Spoilers up to episode 2.

One of the guards seemed to be closer to Alana and her child than the others.

That is what Hannibal had noticed over the few months that he has been kept in his cage. Always first to usher her out when she visited; always the first to give out the dirty stares when they left. It was something that the Cannibal didn't really care for. 

He was not in this cell for Alana's benefit, after all. He was in this cell for a certain someones benefit that would clearly not be visiting anytime soon. A certain someone who left and had to get themselves all sorts of thrown about. 

So why was he even in this cell at all?

After the news given to him by Alana herself; Hannibal had noticed her decline of visitations. Not that she visited him often to begin with. Her reluctance to accept what had happened between the two of them was thick and sluggish in its dissipation. It would be something that haunted her for years to come. Probably forever.  


Hannibal was content with that. 

His cell now-a-days lacked all sorts of communication. The nuance of Hannibal The Cannibal would wane for a bit until his trial. Its given him plenty of time to think about things. Plenty of time to consider and in some vast occasions mourn the life he could have had. His mental palace in some areas have become as much unwelcomed as the rooms in the back containing the screams of a little girl he loved so dearly. 

There were no screams from the rooms containing Will Graham. Hannibal couldn't even place a moment in time where he had heard the man scream. Angerly sputtering, maybe, but never any screaming. 

The tell-tale sign of the door opening up rang through the cell in its ominous buzzard like screech. It echoed against the walls, bouncing around until it had no where else to go. Hannibal thought about looking up at the noise,played with the idea for just a few seconds before something better came to mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet around them fill in the empty spaces. A sparing grace for the visitor that wouldn't be given out for any stretches of time. 

"I wonder how long before Alana truly starts showing. Maybe she will be the kind that doesn't show at all. Already five months in, isn't she? Or is it six now?" Hannibal could hear the grunting anger in return. Always anger; fuming, foaming, mistlike. It didn't matter, it always had the same uplifting affect on his mood. He smirked inwardly. He had been going about this ever since he started noticing the connection. Except for when the news of Will Graham...  


He didn't think about that.

"Is it just you?" He chose to ask instead, tone light and questionable. Not entirely strange but usually the only one that dared to enter alone on multiple occasions was Denise. The man in particular was normally guarding Alana with a sense of almost big brother protection. Alana and Margot had always attracted those that had wanted to protect them.  
Hannibal knew they could protect themselves though; He had almost seen it in person. 

"Pork with Paprika, salt and pepper has always been a favorite" The slamming of something down on a surface broke the pause at the end of his sentence. It spoke louder than anything that guard could say. Hannibal could practically smell the rage simmering beneath. The Rage he antagonized slowly, like roasting meat in a barbecue pit. 

"You have found yourself in a very dangerous predicament," The guard seethed out; his tone low. The man wasn't terribly bulky but one could tell that he did work out from time to time; more lean that muscled. The man had no reason to stand in front of Hannibal's cell now and taunt to beast. Hannibal wasn't going to let him in on that little secret. 

"What predicament would that be" The cannibal curiously inquired, choosing now to sit up from his bed and take a long look at the guard. The man held a police stick in his hand, clear intentions on why he had it and what he wanted to do with it. A knife more than likely in his pocket as well. For when things went south. The gears in Hannibal's head turned; working through the different scenarios that could happen. "Alana wouldn't let many in without two or three people about, does that mean she stepped out for a bit? A shame. It would have been nice to make her into something. Perhaps into one of the beers that she so admir-"

The shrill sound of the cell door opening, paused the prisoner in his speech. Air whooshing in ruffled the papers kept at his desk; Drawings left unfinished weeks ago. The man leaped into action with his police baton in hand. 

Hannibal smiled.  
_______________  
Alana sat down in Jacks office, soda in hand and a distant look in her eyes. The two of them had taken up to drinking together. It was comforting, she supposed. Drinking with the man that had gone through EXACTLY what she had with Hannibal. A man who knew how deep the ache of a lost friend was. Especially a lost Will Graham. She heaved out a sigh, clinking ice against the edge of the glass she was holding. The urge to drink something stronger sung to her. 

Margot sat next to her, a rare occasion that she was able to free herself from the business of the Verger farm. Lucky lady got to have her whiskey, Alana scoffed at that. Tipping the glass back in hopes of getting anytime of proximity buzz to the alcohol. Margot snorted at her actions, taking Alana's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the backside of her palm. 

They really didn't have much to talk about today; Jack, Alana and Margot. Enjoying the shared company was all they needed. The ring of Alana's cellular device broke that silence. causing the trio to jump slightly at the suddenly invasive noise. Alana clicked her phone, unlocking the screen with her touch pad and answering with a terse "What."

Her eyes widened, breathing became erratic. She clutched her wife's hand tight as shakes of the body flowed freely through her. The phone, barely clasped in her other hand, gave up its battle and fell to the ground. The screen shattered on impact. Margot was shocked still at the outburst. Her eyes shifted to Jack with worry; "What happened?"  
The room temperature seemed to drop dramatically, sending chills up their spines. 

"Hannibal has escaped."

______

Upon entering the BSHCI, the first real thing they could smell was the iron aroma of blood; coppery and insistent. Alana covered her mouth with her hand to avoid the eventuality of feeling sick. Nausea already closing around her from all sides. Margot took one glance at her wife before pulling the other into a side hug as they walked. It was in every sense of the word protective and gentle. 

A uniformed tenant met them in the main area; pale faced from the events that have taken place in the span of a few hours since Alana had been away. "He managed to a couple of guards on the way out. Nothing as gruesome as what was done to the one found in his cell proper. I'm not sure you should loo-" The woman was cut off by Alana's raised hand; sternness radiating off of her in waves. 

"I must see it. Whatever happened there has to be message or something left behind. Hannibal wouldn't be able to resist." The tenant gulped visibly, holding back her words, knowing that they would be useless here. 

"Right this way then, Ma'am."

Red was the first word, Alana thought of when she stepped into the room that had once contained her cannibalistic ex-friend. Blood was everywhere. Some dried, some not. Giant red streaks decorated the ground in thick ribbons; all leading up to a body that laid against the glass cell walls. They couldn't see the front of said body, its back facing the entrance where they all stood now. Margot looked just as horrified as Alana felt but wasn't able to show; hasn't been able to show in front of others in a very long time. 

The whole kill was reckless; messy. As if Hannibal didn't have a whole lot of time to put together this tableau. The guard had a chuck take out of the collarbone area. Alana assumed this was the way the man had died. One wrong move and then BAM, you got a chunk taken out of you. Hannibal had a way of doing that. Blood had gushed freely from the wound, suffocating the rest of the body; painting it crimson. Her gaze shifted down the body, taking in what else had been done. The chest cut open;heart taken out and laid messily in the mans arms as they encircled a stomach full of things that didn't belong there. It gave the guard the illusion pregnancy. Alana felt that she would be sick; it was exactly what she was looking for. Hannibal's note to them all. The one thing that he couldn't leave without making. 

A promise to keep. A death unpaid.


	7. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hawk have a conversation. Hannibal finds a way to get to New Hampshire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry that I have not been updating recently. Life just got way too busy and it seems to be only getting busier. Will try to keep the updates coming but things will change from weekly to probably a few times a month. This chapter is about twice as long as previous chapters; enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for more than 1k in views! I had never thought this would get so much attention. You are all wonderful. <3 I am happy to share this story with all of you!
> 
> Spoilers of The Path: Major symbolism spoilers to episode 9. Plot spoilers up to episode 4.

Piercing screams filled the senses of Will Graham as he walked along the pathways stretching across the movements campus. it startled him, forcing a jump like reaction straight out of him. The darkness of night and lack of street lamps made the whole area seem much more ominous than it did when the suns heated rays shined upon them. Will looked from side to side, trying to figure out from where the noise was coming from. Or even what the screams were telling him. An owl, white as snow, drifted past at an alarming speed. Much too quick and much too graceful. It stared at Will knowingly. 

"GET ME OUT OF HERE" 

Will Graham jolted out of the temporary bed he found himself staying at, silent screams perched in his throat and sweat pooling down every part of his body. Hitched breaths huffing in and out was the only sound in the room; the dim light from the window showing just what time it was in the morning. Early, but not terribly so. He swore he could hear the voices of morning walkers as they passed by the window. 

It was times like these that he wished he had his furry companions the most. His hands yearned for the comforting touch of wet noses upon his skin, of warm small bodies forming a barricade around him in order to protect him from the darkness of his own mind. Will let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands and groaning at the thought of going through another day with little sleep. 

Just like the old days. 

A quiet and hesitant knock on the door alerted the man to the boy that was standing there, trying to look smaller than his tall and thin stature would allow. "Morning," Hawk smiled some. His hands clenched at his sides; a nervous gesture more than anything. "I heard you gasping, mumbling too...Maybe from a bad dream?" He shifted his gaze from Will to the bed and back to the profiler again. "Or yeah...from a bad dream. Ive seen that happen before.." The boy wouldn't mention his dad doing the same thing recently. That even though Hawk himself wasn't pleased with the affair going on, he could feel a form of sympathy that the nightmares would bring. 

Will sighed, jittery nodding his head in short bursts. "Yeah. Yeah Good morning." His grin wasn't comforting, more plastered on his face from overuse of trying to pretend that he was more okay than not. "Dreams have a way of haunting me." He glanced towards the teen expectantly, waiting for the reason as to why Hawk was standing there to begin with. He didn't think that he was particularly loud this time; maybe he was wrong.

He choose not to worry about that. 

Hawk found himself fidgeting, tapping his hands against the door frame while trying to be as patient as he could muster. "I did...I uh had a favor to ask of you. That is if you would hear me out and want to help me with something of course." The teenager glanced out and down the hallway. He wanted this conversation to be as secretive as possible. Especially with they way he knew his mom would react to the whole ordeal. Especially with the things his mother had to deal with already on her plate. Hell, he didn't even know why she was going to be so against it in the first place. 

They were supposed to help out those in need after all, right?

With Will's expectant look and the lack of speaking, Hawk found himself continuing. "There is this girl at my school...Her mom...well" He paused to bite the bottom of his lip, not quite sure how to relay the important information while also not showcasing his slight detest at Ashley's mom for letting it even get this far. "They don't have power but we have a generator..It needs fixing up, but maybe you can help me with that? I remember you saying something about boat motors the other day at dinner and I don't know how different they could be but I was hoping not that different." Hawk stilled for a second to take a intake of air, realizing that he was rambling on. "I mean if you would like to."

The request was.... It was welcomed for Will Graham. Not a request normally asked of him in a very long time. Not a request that one would think of once one found out about his past job an all the horrors that went with it. He was struck with this very unreal feeling in his gut that reminded him to the fact that no one in this group would know what he had recently been through. Ann only got the slightest of hints when she asked about Abigail. 

No one knew of Hannibal Lecter's influence on his person. No one knew of the people he had seen killed or had even taken part of killing himself. No one knew because no one here was looking for a way to use him, despite everything already done to him. He couldn't help it. 

Will Graham cracked open a smile. 

It was a genuine thing, relief and gratitude pulsing out of him now with a ferocity that even he himself would be surprised at. "Yeah, boat motors cant be to terrible different. Just have to see what we are dealing with." Will arched himself backwards, stretching out his back before officially climbing out of the bed and starting a new day. "After school we can take a look." It wasn't a promise, wasn't even really a plan but the teenager smiled anyways while nodding his thanks and beaming as he moved towards the staircase. 

No one should live in the dark if there were people that could help them into light. 

___________________

For Hannibal, escaping was really as far as he was thinking when it came to the whole "be free, who cares, Will is gone but I wont trust that just yet" motions in his head. Only scraps of knowledge about the outside world happenings were available to him through the skimming of newspaper headlines. A bus ride through the streets of Baltimore left him standing at a greyhound station; clothed in a baggy ensemble of layered cloth that had once belonged to a rather rude beggar on the corner of less busy and shadier intersection of the city. 

It wasn't his first choice of outfits. 

Hell, it wasn't even in his top ten. For now the need of camouflage spoke louder than the need to wear something more appropriate to his tastes. He certainly has worn much worse, after all. A outrageous Red soxs baseball cap flattened his hair against his forehead.

The greyhound station in question didn't have many visitors at this time of evening; the last running buses for the night parked in a row with their lights on inside. Dingy, dark and unpleasantly necessary for the man if he wanted to get to New Hampshire; only a few hours out if he was lucky. The ticket was pocket change; not his. He settled down into a seat smack center of the whole bus; avoiding any attention he would get by siting anywhere else. 

He was a patient man and he would get his answers.   
___________________  
Will Graham walked down the walkways around the compound, as was almost a daily routine for him now. There wasn't much for him to do while he spent his days getting himself back into order of things. He wasn't apart of the movement, wasn't needed in planting or cutting vegetables; wasn't needed in telling stories or speaking about this light that they all believed in. He just existed amongst them. He watched over them with a keen insight.

They were kind people; truly lacking the generalized stigma that was associated when one thought of a cult or a movement as they liked to be called. In fact, truly the only person Will had met in the past week that he could even categorized as sketchy was Cal himself. there was just something about him that sent Will into red alert. There was just something about Cal that reminded him of a lesser form of Hannibal. Not the grace or the killer instinct, but the manipulation. 

That was truly terrifying to him. 

Will gaze shifted from the ground he was staring at while he was walking, to the buildings around him; the business of the group drowning out the thoughts in his head for just a brief minute before his eyes landed on a white building left unmarked. It wasn't fairly big; could hold a few rooms at most. Small windows placed up at the top of the walls could filter in only a bit of sunlight against is walls.

It normally wouldn't stop him in his tracks, except for that it was the SAME building he had seen in his dreams the previous night. Could see the vision of the owl speeding past him. It was like a cold splash of water jolting the very core of his being into awareness; the screams echoing in the back of his mind. 

He made quick work towards the building; not bothering with the world around him that was hard at work with whatever tasks they had planned for the day. The door gave quickly, opening with no locks in place. White walls with nothing much else to see caused Will to be put on edge. It was too clinical. Too unnatural and almost cold. It filled the pit of Will's stomach with unease. There was a man sitting in a chair at the nearest corner to where the door was. He seemed to be on the verge of jumping up; the sudden and unknown entrance throwing him off balance to the point where he wasn't even sure what to think. His muscles coiled with his fight response.

"Hey, you really aren't supposed to be in here...Mr..." 

Will Graham chose to ignore the guard; staring at the rooms in front of them and down the hallway. "What are these rooms for?" the profiler inquired instead. He moved to step further into the hallway as the guard stood up from his chair. 

"You really don't need to know that." The guard moved to pull Will back by his shoulders. To lead him to the outside. "Only those of rung 7 or higher can enter the rooms. You aren't even in the movement. There is no way that I can answ-" His explanation was interrupted by a shattering scream of frustration from a woman and banging on one of the doors. 

"LET ME OUT OF HERE"

That moment seemed to be frozen in time. Both Will and the guard looked at each other before Will sprinted for the door, banging on it in an attempt to get it opened. He cursed at the locked mechanism that required a code to be typed into it. It beeped alarmingly back at him in protest. The door would not budge. "You WILL open up this door NOW" He screamed to the guard, his words drowned out by the others shouts of him needing to leave. 

It was noisy and aggressive; all up until the sound of the outside door opening and the calm voice to the movements "leader" speaking to them. "You both need to stop." The guard backed away immediately, letting Cal move closer to them; the hallway crowded between the three of them. 

"Stop?" Will found the request to be insulting to his sense of moral. "There is a woman in that room, and for what reason is the room locked? What the HELL is going on around here." His fist banged against the side of the wall behind him. It interrupted the quiet that had settled ominously around them. A quiet that only happened before something snapped. "This is against the law. You can't keep someone in there who is screaming to get out." Though the woman seemed to have stopped during all of the commotion. She started back up with the banging on her door. 

Cal kept his cool, trained yet Will could see the mask breaking under the pressure before him. "This place is for unburdening. It is a key part of out movement that one must undergo if they find themselves transgressing. Miranda transgressed and she needs to spend her time here." He crossed his arms in a defensive stance, waiting for something to happen. He would keep his control. He was going to have his conversation with Will Graham and he was going to show them that their way to the light was the right way. 

Will scoffed, balling his fists together by his side. He couldn't help it, he WANTED to strike out at that. They way Cal just admitted to keeping people in these rooms...for what? Unburdening? That was rather ridiculous! The ex-profiler reached out with his empathy, gripping for anything to say that would shatter the rest of the visage that his look alike held. "False leader, False movement." He spat out to Cal. "Keeping people against their will is no way to the light!" 

A fist met Wills face. He found himself grappling with Cal and his outburst. Shouts of 'open that door' rang through Will's ears until it clicked for him; with sound of a code entered, the swoosh of a door, and a shove in. Cal's darkening features greeted his surprise.

"You could use some unburdening, Mr. Graham."

The door banged shut.


	8. The real questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know where Will Graham is!"
> 
> He wasn't expecting that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support! This has been such a great experience to write and share with everyone. ^^
> 
> Spoilers of the Path up to episode 3.

Hannibal's gaze scanned over the horizon of beat up trailers, smashed windows and crumpled iron. Only a month or so has passed since the tornado tragedy; the community just starting its clean up of the area. Most of the damage was strewn about in every direction imaginable. A pile of twisted metal and paint caught his attention; his breath catching in his throat. 

Will's car. 

The man frowned under the shade of the hat he was wearing, thoughtful for a moment and reminiscing on what haves and what could have beens. There just wasn't a feeling of finality here; wasn't a tell tale sign of death and grief. He clenched his hands into fists at his side. His frustration setting wrinkles deep into his forehead. 

"Hey! You aren't allowed here! What are you another one of them reporters?" The noise cause Hannibal to whip his head in the direction it came from. The hat fell ominously to the ground and was snatched up quickly by clumsy hands. Hands belonging to a person with more dirt stains on his shirt than Hannibal would ever be comfortable with. He was wearing gloves, a detail noticed when the man handed back his hat. "Your disguise is better than that one chick, I'll give ya that."

That really got the brain thinking. "Can't say that I am one. I was looking for someone....Though I suppose I will not be finding much on his where about here." Hannibal studied the scene of wreckage in front of them; committing it to memory. "Who has been coming here lately?"

"Oh yeah, didn't quite get her name. Big red curls and an attitude that screams anything other than nice and inviting. She left a business card with a last name. Lounds. It says she works at a nearby hotel but I just don't believe it. Shes definitely a reporter." As the man spoke, he started digging around in his pockets, brandishing out a little piece of paper with the name Lounds on it. 

Hannibal smiles.  
____________  
Day One:

Will Graham remembers banging his fists against the door that separates him from the freedom of the outside. He was supposed to unburden? How was he supposed to do that? What did this Cal person expect him to do. Anger boiled deeply in his veins.

Fuck him, was a very prominent thought in the first couple hours alone. 

Soon enough, however, that got dreadfully boring. Will gazed about the practically empty room, save for a bed and some table that held a green liquid he was very wary of. He fought the urge of shattering the container the green liquid was in. Knew, somewhere in his mind, that it wouldn't accomplish much for his situation. He had no idea how long he had been there. Only a vague sense of sunlight filtering in to give an idea of time passing. 

Will feared the coming of night. The darkness that would leave him with only his mind to keep him company. His imagination and empathy coloring his dreams with the dark shades of nightmares. A searing cold sensation shot up his spine; like ice to a burn. 

He banged on the door louder. 

__________  
Freddie Lounds returned to her hotel room with a small sense of unease and a clutter of pictures she had taken when she snuck around the perimeter of the Meyerist compound, lacking the appearance of the main character in her story. Will Graham wasn't present for the multiple hours she was sitting under bushes or hiding behind trees. That was unusual given the past couple of days. Unusual given the small bundle of photographs she was able to take, waiting to be printed on her site when the time came. 

Did he leave already?

If she lost the trail, then where was her story? Where would it go? Freddie Lounds couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something big here. The door clicked; opening up as the lock mechanism unlocked under her key. She swung it open, ready to discard her purse and camera on the bed when she noticed a shadow looming over her.   
She screamed. 

"Good evening Mrs. Lounds."

"No!" Freddie moved backwards, her shoulder bumping against the doors side panel. Fear paralyzed her, knees threatening to buckle. How did he manage to? How did he find? Her mind raced with so many questions that she knew were futile to demand in her last moments of life. 

"Now that is terribly rude." Hannibal leaned back in the chair he was sitting in patiently. A light on behind him casting shadows through out the room. He was keeping close attention to her movements, ready to chase if she were to turn and run. She wouldn't make it very far.   
He had questions to ask after all. 

"I know where Will Graham is!"

He wasn't expecting that at all. 

Hannibal rose from his chair and in a few simple strides he cornered Lounds against the wall she was already pushing against in order to give enough space between then so she could feel an ounce of safety. There was never enough room between them for that. 

"What was that?" Hannibal's voice was low, dangerous. A threat clearly given in between the words spoken. The unspoken promise that Freddie would meet a rather painful end to her life if she was giving him false information. Love, she thought bitterly. It was only an act of love that would give such a reaction. 

"I.know.Where.Will.Graham.Is" Her words stilted and tense; her whole body coiled in the want and need to run away. "He could be in trouble. If you want to find him you will need my help." She prayed to whatever god or goddess was out there listening that the man would give in to his own curiosity. In one last attempt to persuade the killer in front of her, she handed him a picture she had taken earlier. 

"The Meyerist Compound."


	9. Power plays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham suffers; Cal needs to save him and Hannibal needs to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on a few more stories besides this one! :D I am very proud of that so those will be updated along with this one as time goes on. I feel so bad for Will Graham in this chapter ;o; -hugs him tight- Im sorry Will. 
> 
> Spoilers of The Path to episode 4. 
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings for the chapter: Depression, masturbation

Day 4

Will Graham laid against the side of a wall at the base of the floor furthest away from the door. His eyes glassy and distant as his mind reaches into grounds unknown to anyone but himself. Voices echo there, whispers and spectre like, haunting every moment he has now. Both awake and asleep; Will Graham finds that he can not escape it.  
He has given up trying. 

"What you need is a way out of the dark places when Jack sends you there."

There were no places here that were not dark. The light shined in the windows signaling the time shifting from day to night, day to night. Yet all Will Graham could feel was the eternal darkness he has seeped himself in. All he can feel is the emptiness of memories that he wishes he didn't have. Wishes he had more of. It spirals out of control in both colors and black and white. 

"I feel like I'm fading"

He remembers saying that to Hannibal. Feels more real now than it ever had. Even with the illness he ended up with. Even more so than the manipulations Hannibal sent him through. At least at that time he had someone else with him...

Will Graham bangs his head against the wall now, screaming out his loneliness and cursing every which way he found appropriate. The walls show no wear for his troubles. They stand as concrete as he doesn't feel inside. It taunts him. 

"Friendship can sometimes involve a breach of individual separateness"

Oh how WIll wanted that breach right now. He would give anything for it; the need forces him to grasp out for anything he can. He finds green splotches of juice still staining the corners and walls of this jail. Cal visited sometimes.... Sometimes. Will always thought it was just to see what the man has done to him. A sadistic pleasure to see Will here now falling apart with just a few short hours of isolation. 

He despised himself. 

Cal's questions always were returned with silence or growling. Cal never stayed for long. Always wanting to replace the meals and juice so that Will could at least survive the 14 days. He never got to hear of the unburdening. As if Will needed to unburden to that pathetic monster wanting to be greater than he ever could. Anger threatening to breath through at the cracks of Will's shredded sanity. He could kill him. He wanted to kill him. 

He knew he couldn't give into that urge no matter what happened to him. 

____________

Cal sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn't feeling normal. Something happened to normal; it twisted and changed into something he felt he could no longer contain. Its been a change that has taken several days to notice. Ever since before the ex profilers unburdening process.  
Ever since Will Graham showed up. 

A jolt of lust stabbed through Cal as he thought of his previous encounter with the man in question. Violence happened yes, but the last visit he had spoke of something more than he thought he would achieve in such notice. He remembered it vividly; the man panting against the wall. Sweat soaked through his curls making it damp against his forehead and inspiring images that were everything but the situation the man was in. He didn't say anything but Cal could notice the breaking as it was happening. 

It wouldn't be long before Will unburdened and accepted the love that the movement could give him. It would do the man good. This was something Will needed; he just had to finally accept it for himself. The idea of saving the profiler was the ultimate power play for Cal. He let the sensation flow through him and warm his insides like alcohol would. His pants tightening around an erection that was showing itself to be quite promising. Cal's hand reached to palm it, moving up and down as he gasped at the friction. 

He found himself quite glad he choose to lock his office door before hand. 

He would Save Will Graham. He needed to save Will Graham.  
___________  
"The Meyerist Compound."

Hannibal's gaze scrunched up into a threatening confusion. He didn't like not knowing what the reporter was talking about. Freddie looked way to smug at the thought of Hannibal expressing any sort of weakness. As if she she was safe just because she knew something that he didnt.

He would really have to correct her way of thinking. 

"Why would he be in trouble," Hannibal asked curious. Already noting everything in this conversation back into his mind. The serial killer will be patient until they were able to locate his Will Graham. 

Freddie shifted, wanting to move from the position she was pinned under. "I can show you." She promised, looking up at the dark eyes and shuddering with a clear reminder of exactly who she was talking to. "I need access to my computer. I can show you exactly all that I know." She added offhandedly, "I have pictures."

Hannibal moved to the side, poised for an attack at any moment. "By All means Mrs Lounds" His voice was steady, collected. The mousy Lounds practically leaped away, flying towards her computer faster than Hannibal had ever seen her scamper. Static noise from the computers start up filled the room that otherwise would have been dead quiet. It booted up slowly. Its overworked circuits screaming at the hours of use the tabloid reporter had surely put into it. The glow of the screen illuminated her pale face. Her hands clicked to open all the files she needed to prove her point. 

"He was there a few days ago, walking around with someone.... Then he was just gone. Hadn't seen him all day for the past day or two.... He didn't leave. There was NO way he would have left just yet. You will see why right here." A slender finger pointed to a single picture on the computer. Hannibal moved to get a better look; stalling when the photo came into focus for him. 

Was that Abigail?

It couldn't have been Abigail. The similarities were great though upon a second look? Hannibal could see the subtle differences. This woman would have been a perfect victim for Garrett Jacob Hobbs if the man was still alive to continue on his hunt. 

"She looks similar doesn't she?" Freddie gave the other a side glance, taking in his silence and expression. "Her name is Anna. Will wouldn't have just left overnight." She went through a few more photos to show the other, tense muscles jerking with every mouse click. Freddie bit the side of her cheek. "I'm not sure where he is though." 

"So we need to find a way into the Meyerist Compound." 

He was already planning.


	10. misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now she found the opportunity for the story of the century too good to be true. 
> 
> And what of that cannibalistic serial killer?
> 
> He was standing right behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while! July was just filled with things to get done and Polls to try and win. We really battled it out hard for Mads Mikkelsen in the Radio Times polls. Very exhausting! I hope to be writing more on this story soon! However this month might be dedicated to my Essay that is due at the beginning of September. 
> 
> Chapter 10 already though? WOW! I am so happy you all have kept a lively interest in my story! It really keeps me going, thinking and plotting! <3
> 
> The Path spoilers: Once again to about episode 4.

Day 6

A figure sat next to him, her dark hair falling over features that Will Graham knew only too well. She smelled of earth and spice. 

"You are dead." He stated simply, letting his hand fall down to touch the side of her own. He was quite sure she smiled at that. She had always respected his bluntness. Made their lives easier than when he hid his emotions from her. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye, cascading down his cheek to leave yet another water stain. 

"Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself hes god. Or the Lizard King."  
Will's haunted laugh rang through out the empty room, whispery and phantom like. He swore he heard Beverly's laugh but his mind tormented him with doubts. Logically he knew. 

Logically he knew. 

"Are you okay?" Beverly leaned her head back against the wall they both had been sitting at. Her eyes closed as she breathed in and out rhythmically, hypnotically. "I know its a silly question, but are you okay?" Only then did their eyes connect.

"No." 

A white wall stared back at him. Will fought the urge to scream. 

__________

"Hello, I made an appointment earlier yesterday. " Red curls bounced on the side of Freddie's vision, threatening to block it if she tilted her head in the right direction. The woman she was speaking too, Asian with quite a pregnant a belly, smiled back to her and her companion. It would have sent Freddie cackling if someone had told herself she would be cooperating with a cannibalistic serial killer wishing to save his beloved ex profiler a few weeks ago. Now she found the opportunity for the story of the century too good to be true. 

And what of that cannibalistic serial killer?

He was standing right behind her. Brunette wig placed delicately on his head, giving him a more shaggy look that relayed a lack of great care for his personal appearance. Hannibal now slouched slightly, putting weight on his left foot. He wore jeans, something Freddie was extremely proud of herself finding in a size that would actually fit the other. His shirt, checkered plaid and open to reveal a tight white undershirt she had insisted him wearing. Bracelets adorned his wrists and honestly Freddie had no idea where they even came from. He was smiling at the woman they were speaking to. 

Needless to say it both was comedic and scary as hell. 

"Ah yes!" The Asian woman greeted them, flipping through something with the clicks on her work computer. "Mr and Mrs Lewits? We are happy to welcome you to the movement. Would you like a tour before immediately signing up? Ive been told we have fantastic guides. Or if you have any questions, I can be happy to answer them." The woman set out a clipboard with something that appeared to be a sign in sheet for visitors. Freddie was kind of surprised they had such a thing. She amphed up the most convincing smile she could.

"My husband and I would absolutely LOVE that. Wouldn't we honey?" Turning towards Hannibal now, her arms moved on their own to place themselves around his neck; an unspoken demand that he reciprocate with her as believable as he could. A smirk formed on Freddie's features. The tightening of arms around the small of her back was as close to threatening that could be allowed. 

"Of course." Hannibal's voice was like honey, camouflaging all the steel beneath it. It sent a sharp shiver up Freddie's spine. "Though it is rather a shame that it will not be your lovely self helping with the tour." His smile brilliant, causing the woman to blush lightly. Freddie could see her fawning already. 

That sly conniving bastard. 

"You flatterer. Actually you two are very lucky, Eddie is open for giving a tour right now. He's at the 5th rung of the ladder. His family just recently hosted one of the tornado victims in their house. Cal, our leader for now, told us the man had to leave early though. My name is Nicole and if you have any questions either Eddy or I can help you."

Freddie could have hinted of the clue to Hannibal without elbowing him in the stomach, but that didn't stop her. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, cringing at the pain and the urge to kill her with a witness under his self control; Will be damned. Mrs Lounds was definitely dancing on the line he was sure he had drawn when they first agreed to work together. 

If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't be around for her story to make it to the public.  
"Such Tragic news," Mrs Lounds spoke up now. "Heard about the story in the papers. Tornadoes just aren't common around here. It was quite a wakening experience to read about." She reached for Hannibal's hand, clasping it gently. "We heard you all were the first on the scene. It's what really directed us towards this during our time of questionable faith." Her smile was small now, sad. 

"It truly was tragic." Nichole moved around to the front of the counter, offering a small pat on the shoulder of 'Mrs Lewits'. "Let me go grab Eddie real quick, the tour should only take a bit under an hour." She left with a small swing in her steps; the weight of life expressed in each move. 

Freddie turned towards Hannibal now, stepping away as quickly as she could. "So?" The woman bit at her bottom lip, in deep thought. "The man she was talking about has to be Will. He didn't leave though. I know he didn't!" Her foot tapped impatiently against the floor of the building they were standing in; the sound not loud with the absent of noise and tech whirling. "He has to be somewhere in the compound. We need to find Ann." 

Hannibal listened quietly, not speaking his thoughts over it. The need to see Will hadn't waned in himself since they started this whole adventure. If anything it grew more desperate. There were places here that Hannibal could envision Will being. Places where the man would have stood or paced back and forth; and Hannibal has only seen maybe 5% of the whole area thus far. Mrs Lounds's concern hadn't set off an alarm in his head until the repetition of her worry sunk deep under his skin. Now he felt the almost otherworldly sense of danger and dread.  
Footsteps from further back broke his silence as he turned around. 

"You must me Eddie."


	11. Crushing Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann worries and Alana screams. This chapter is all about what the women are going through right now at this point in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...its been a very long time, hasn't it? Sorry about that everyone! I am back and ready to write! Spent much of the past month getting my essay ready to submit, which I did this past Sunday! Then I got sick, still am sick really.

Ann worried the bottom of her shirt, letting the fabric between her fingers calm her thoughts with its repetitiveness. It had only been a few days since she had last seen Will. Wouldn't have been such a big ordeal if not for the strange way the man seemingly disappeared. Practically overnight, Cal had mentioned. Said something about Will resting long enough and needing to move on. Ann could believe that... Will was only supposed to be a temporary visitor after all. 

Yet. Will had promised to help Hawk with something. The younger man was sulking about it for the past couple of days.

Ann could admit to herself that she didn't really know Will Graham at all... but she could definitely say that it wasn't in Wills nature to just up and leave like that. She hummed thoughtfully at her own inner turmoil, letting her mind wander as it tried to work around the whole situation. A vision of their previous conversation played in the back of her head. She may have not meant much to him, but she did remind him of someone. Someone that he cared deeply about, someone that haunted him from day to day. 

Surely he wouldn't just get up and leave overnight if this person had met so much. 

Surely she would have at the very least received a goodbye. 

The fabric of the shirt bunched in her palm, wrinkles setting themselves in from her overworkings. She bit back the bitter sting of disappointment. She admittedly wasn't paying attention during her small inner conversations. Her head hitting the fabric-ed back of a person whom was walking in a direction that indicated following a tour. The assumption proven as Eddie poked his head over the two people standing behind him to look at her with some concern. “You okay Ann?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She waved the concern off with a delicate flick of her wrist. Taking a step back from the group, Ann was able to get a better look at...the two of them? Married or together it seemed with the way the woman had her arm locked around the man's, hooked at the elbow. The man himself, stared back at Ann with a reserved face. She couldn't exactly say what she saw there...but it almost looked like a twitch of shock behind the facade. “Are you both thinking about joining the movement? Everyone's pretty friendly and we love to accept new followers into our open arms.” She smiled lightly towards them, hoping for a welcoming expression she wasn't exactly feeling at the moment. Her mind slowly catching up with her as she turned away. 

The mans eyes followed her back when she retreated. 

 _______________

Earth shattering screams woke Margot from her own haunting nightmares. Her entire body stiffened and coiled up, bracing herself to attack. Bracing herself for whatever it was that made such a dreadful noise. In the back of her mind she hoped it hadn't disturbed her lovely wi-

The noise was coming from Alana. Margot's hand creeped along their royal blue bedding, in search of the hand that was most certainly flailing or clenching the same bedding between her elegant fingers. The slap from said hand didn't startle Margot as she gripped on. 

“NO”

Margot turned her body to face her wife, shushing whispers falling flat against the shrieking. Her arms snaked around the body it knew by touch now. Around the small bump forming the life that they have worked so hard to achieve together. For just a moment, she allowed the pride and joy to fill her entire being before being doused by fear like cold water. 

“NO. NO. NO. YOU CANT.”

“Alana, love. Wake up. Its a dream. Wake up please.” Margot shook Alana by the shoulders now, dodging the limbs that lashed out aggressively against her. She'd bruise, letting each limb hit with a slap or a kick. “Its a dream. You are away from that now. You are away” The words were chanted over and over. They were gone from there now. They were safe. They were gone and they were safe. 

“HANNIBAL STOP”

The screaming grew louder. The frantic flailing more intense and Alana's worst nightmares came to haunt her. 

As they did every night. 

Margot wanted to think she was used to it now, but who could truly be used to seeing the one person they have grown to care about more than anyone else on the entire planet's face screwed up in pain and terrifying fear. How could anyone be okay with it even after the tenth or the one-hundreth time?

No one could. 

One final soul crushing scream emitted from her wife's lips before she jolted up in the bed, whacking her forehead against Margot's in a loud thwack. Alana clutched at her head, grabbing stray strands of hair and pulling them loose from her being. Tears rolled down her cheeks freely now; she moved her hands to clutch at her stomach. Grasping for any sign that she was still carrying their child. That, whatever happened in the dream she experienced, hadn't actually happened in reality. Margot knew that look. She knew the routine by heart now. She prayed almost as constantly for the whole thing to eventually end one day. 

That day couldn't come soon enough.

“He took him.” The mumbles were loud in their ears, like gunshots or sirens in the dead still room. “He took him and left you for dead” Alana openly sobbed now, clinging to Margot as the tears clogged up her nose forcing her to breath heavily from her mouth. Her whole body shook, shaking them both to their very cores. Hands gripping like steal clamps, clinging to Margot's arms as if she was the last form of stability they will ever know. Stability that was shaky in its foundation. Stability that hated seeing this happen again., night after night. 

Margot wanted to think she was used to it now. 

She knew she would never be.


	12. Confined Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal was being tested. Clearly that was what was happening; be it by some force of god or Freddie Lounds. Particularly Freddie Lounds
> 
> Will is still locked up and Hannibal thinks back to his run in with Ann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again from the brink of sickness and a vacation to London. :D Good to be back in good health finally! 
> 
> The plot should be moving faster from this point on. Im not sure at this time how many more chapters this story will have,but it is all coming together. 
> 
> spoilers of The path up to Episode 5.

Day 9

Will painted the walls of his cell with the green juice that they insisted he drank. It clashed against the white, splotches of juice drying an ugly color. Ugly like his soul. Words were finger painted in the bare spaces left. “Killer.” “God.” “Liar.” “Liar.” 

“LIAR.”

Beverly came and went. Alana came and went. Hannibal came...

Hannibal stayed. 

“Words are living things” Hannibal brushed a hand up against the LIAR, oozing down with green sticky glop, “They have personality, point of view, agenda.” Will watched him closely, his long fingers swiping over the wall like claws. It was not hard to imagine the man as the beast. He was a blur of two, swirling and mixing together to form a new hybrid of man that Will could not name. The creature crept up to him, framing Will's face with is clawed hands, gently rubbing at his cheeks with a clawed thumb. “You are not alone”

Will was in awe. 

_________

Eddie Lane sighed deeply as he hung up the phone, ending his call with a perspective convertee. It was getting harder and harder for him to be enthusiastic over this; his own mind questioning everything he has witnessed over the past months since his trip to South America. What he saw there at the camp as well, it sent a shiver up his spine. He found himself thinking back to the couple he had given a tour to a few days prior. Upfront they seemed loving. They had held hands(a little to tightly) and had bantered back and forth (a little to roughly). It just made everything seem...off. 

Eddie Lane just felt a bit off about everything as of late. 

His wife, Sarah, kept looking at him as if he was harboring this major secret from the rest of them. Hell maybe he was. He just wanted to know the truth. Needed more than anything to breach that understanding with it and accept it for its full value. It didn't seem like many people around him agreed on the same thing if it wasn't apart of their ladder system or their “light”. 

He felt the true need to throw something. Felt the cravings for the sound of shattering that would soothe nerves. 

________

Hannibal was being tested. Clearly that was what was happening; be it by some force of god or Freddie Lounds. Particularly Freddie Lounds; she would have made an excellent entree. Paired with a Red, just like her hair and her acidic nature. The woman was a clever one, using this time that she had now for punches and cuts to his ego. “Will Graham sure knows how to pick them” She said. “What a way to escape from a cannibalistic killer,” She continued as she picked up one of the vases in the main dining area of the compound. Each one a pointed blade, hitting their targets with high accuracy. 

It was a blessing that Hannibal knew how to hide those emotions from the world. Freddie Lounds was not going to get the reactions she so desperately wanted. He was not going to be on the headlines for her newest article.

Well... At least not for those reasons. 

Their “tour” went as any tour would. As any tour should. They walked behind their guide, Eddie, as he pointed and mentioned the different places their little band of cultees' spent their time daily. He admits losing interest quickly, not paying attention to where he was going until he bumped into a young woman. 

A woman who looked EXACTLY like Abigail. He had stood there in shock, eyes searching her up and down. Looking for the similarities and the differences. She was brunette, she had different colored eyes. She was petite, she did not carry herself as Abigail would. She did not wear a scarf around her neck. Her neck held no cuts or wounds of any kind. 

She was not Abigail Hobbs, but she looked similar enough. 

A sharp pain twisted inside of him at the sight of her. It left him feeling raw and vulnerable. Whispers of what could have been creeping in the back of Hannibal's mind, situating themselves in his mind palace and finding home there. There with Will. His whole body shivered at the prospect. It took him all he was to avoid sinking into that familiar comfort. It left a bitter sadness on the tip of his tongue. This was not the reason why he was here at the compound. 

He was here for Will Graham. 

He needed to see Will Graham. 

Where ever the man was, and Hannibal was certain that the not Abigail may have a bit more of an idea as to where. His mind drifted back to the present, just in time for his companion to slam down a map on the desk he was sitting at. Freddie radiated annoyance; had been radiating it since Hannibal arrived at her hotel doorstep just six days prior. “I crossed out every place I'm sure he isn't at. We will need to go back.” She sniffed, huffing out a breath through her lips. “Can't you stay somewhere else??” She asked that quite often for someone who already knew the answer to it. 

“ We should go back as soon as we are able to then. I would like to try and find that woman again...You said her name was Ann right?” A slow nod was given back to the other at the inquiry. Freddie Lounds was, for once in her life, feeling quite nervous for someone else's sake. She gripped at her pen tightly. 

“A wonderful name.”

Hannibal smirked. He will get what he wants. He always does.


	13. Broken and Promising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That revelation was the moment Will could feel his own self crack under the pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to the end! I expect a few more chapters to be written. Sorry for taking such a long time to update this- A lot has been going on in my life. Super excited to start watching Season two of the Path! Have you all gotten a chance to see it? Its getting pretty dark. 
> 
> The Path spoiler up to Episode 4

What was the light? Will wondered that more often than not now that he was surrounded by darkness for most of awareness. What light could come out of this hellish place that promised fake belief and relief? 

Cal visited more often as the days, and really he assumed they were days, passed on. All smiles and kind words. Caresses against his clothed thigh, hands against his shoulder, words forming concerned and aggressive thoughts that spoke far more intent than actions could. 

“We can show you forgiveness,” Cal had promised him. “We can show you the light that you have been wanting and reaching for all this time.”

“There is not light” Will hissed back,losing its strength each time. 

“You don't believe me now, but you will.” Determination in his eyes, Cal would leave with not much of a conversation after that. Will sat in the darkness, wondering. He watched Hannibal as Hannibal watched him. 

Was there really a light to reach out to?

Could he really be forgiven?

He looked back to Hannibal. Hannibal looked back at him. If there was only one person in this world that he could even consider being the light, it was the very man that sent him into such darkness. 

That revelation was the moment Will could feel his own self crack under the pressure. 

________

Cal felt like he could pull out his hair at about this time. He had so much to do and yet nothing seemed to be going his way. His mother was being her normal drunk self. Eddie Lane was acting very strange, his wife mentioning it briefly as she bit on her bottom lip in concern. Mary was distancing herself. Her father stopping by gave him the chills and activists against their teachings gathering outside their compound wasn't settling the nerves in anyone. He sighed, a great and deep breath releasing from him. Will as well wasn't responding in the way Cal needed him to respond. If anything at this time, Cal needed some kind of celebrity backing of the Meyerist Movement. He needed Will Graham to be on their side, their ideology.

He felt like he was so close too. He just needed to push a bit longer. 

Cal could feel his whole body shuddering at the thought of Will. The way the man stared him down as if he knew everything Cal was trying to his. Eyes so much like his own searing holes into Cal's back when he walked out from another “session” they shared. It felt like fire. Burning his skin with a heat that caused the man to be breathless. 

There had to be some sort of moral issue out there for finding lust in a person that looks identical to oneself but Cal just couldn't find the will to care. Didn't want to find the will to care, he wanted to sit back and relish the feeling of it until it numbed him. There were only two more days left to the man's unburdening. 

Cal had to do something. 

________

Hannibal growled out at the pushing and shoving people around him did to make space for themselves. Signs blocking the view of anyone tall enough to see over the mass of heads that have accumulated. Another elbow hit him in the side, forcing Hannibal to shift and balance awkwardly on his left foot. 

If only he could get away with killing a few of them here and now....

Freddie Lounds, the bane of existence that she was, was situated at his side. Her eyes narrowed, scowl deep in her features. It gave Hannibal a small sense of pleasure to know that the firey red haired woman wasn't enjoying this one bit either. It was a vindictive sort of pleasure. “This is ridiculous,” She muttered under her breath, forcing her way between two men. “Move!” A huff of annoyance could be heard. “For the love of- Move out of my way!”

Hannibal couldn't help himself, he smirked at her action. “Your temperament is showing, must be cautious least we show our true nature.” Not that he would be complaining. She was making a pathway for him as well, even if it was unintentional. His smirk grew with the look of pure hatred she shared before schooling her features. 

“Well we have an appointment, Dear.” Her words sickly sweet and poisonous. “How are we going to get through to meet up with our friends if we can not get through this sea of people.” Her hand stuck out to grab is, grip tight, knuckles white. If she was trying to dig her manicured nails into his flesh, it was working. 

He wouldn't let it show, though. Would never let her have that on him. They eventually found themselves facing the gated entrance. His loving wife bobbing her head in an affirmative nod to the security guard whom checked off a few places on his list before opening the gate wide enough to let them through. “Cal wants you to stop by when your done talking to Eddie,” He called out. “Wants to know how you are feeling about joining.”

Freddie waved her hand back towards the man, continuing to hold onto Hannibal with her other hand until they rounded the corner of a building. Hannibal had to admit that he had never seen someone jerk back from his touch as fast as she had. “With all the protesters about, we have a good chance to sneak around.” Freddie leveled a look to Hannibal, warning him without words that he needed to keep up. “This is our last chance to find Will. I'm not sure I can squeeze in another meeting with out them becoming a bit suspicious.” A strand of her hair was swept back behind her ear, a fidgety gesture reeking of nervousness and uncertainty. “If we cant find him...” She stopped speaking. Knowing what would happen if they couldn't. Not wanting the words to be spoken out loud. Hannibal could see the way it affected her. The way the thoughts of unknown things racked her up in fear. Her eyebrows furrowed together; she grimaced. 

“If we can not find him, then I will kill you.” 

If she wouldn't speak of it, he would.


End file.
